


The Girl With The Ghost

by Birbliophile



Series: Through the Eyes of Children [1]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game), Don't Starve Together - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character(s), Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birbliophile/pseuds/Birbliophile
Summary: Wendy and Abigail were always told by their parents not to talk to strangers, but these people seem alright. These aren't ordinary circumstances anyway.
Series: Through the Eyes of Children [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087121
Comments: 54
Kudos: 49





	1. The Stranger In the Woods

_We should find you more things to eat._

Wendy stared blankly up at Abigail’s ghostly form hovering over her, the trees visible through her sister’s transparent face. Three days in this strange land and she still wasn’t quite used to that. “Or,” Wendy murmured, “I could lie here until the inevitable occurs.”

 _Wendy._ Abigail huffed, a freezing cold breeze on Wendy’s forehead.

Wendy sighed. “Okay, okay...” She forced herself to stand up and brushed bits of dirt off her skirt, then started off once more through the thick forest. Abigail floated a little higher, in a protective stance over her twin. 

_Do you have enough twigs for a torch?_

“Just about. Though the dark isn’t so bad, you know.”

Abigail turned red and hissed. _No! That thing..._ She wrapped her ghostly arms around herself and shook. _I can feel it when it gets dark...not dead, not really alive…it’s weird, and not a good weird. And it’s_ **_hungry_ ** _..._

“I’m not too worried,” Wendy said. “You’re here.”

_I can’t always fight the monsters._

Wendy picked a flower and twisted the stem between her fingers until it broke. “Mmm.”

They weren’t having much luck. Wendy’s pocketful of berries was dwindling fast, and flower petals weren’t particularly filling either. As the sky turned a deep red, Wendy felt the gnawing pangs of hunger scratching at her stomach grow stronger. Abigail looked more and more agitated, circling her sister with pale eyes wide and worried. 

_This isn’t good…_

Wendy gnawed at the bark on a twig and made a face. “Probably not particularly nutritious, unless you’re a beaver I suppose.”

_Mmm._

Suddenly, a snapping sound rang out. Wendy’s head shot up from the bush she was leaning over, spotting a shadow moving through the thick brush several paces away. Abigail turned deep red and scowled. 

_Wendy, hide!_

“Where?” Wendy hissed under her breath. 

_Up that tree! Now!_

Wendy scrambled up the nearest tree, Abigail following closely. The crunching footsteps got closer, and Wendy held her breath as the mysterious figure emerged from the undergrowth-

Revealing what could only be described as an incredibly awkward looking human man wearing a red vest and carrying a brown bag on his back. 

Wendy’s mouth hung open as the man, or what looked very much like a man, glanced around, then set his bag down and took out something dark and leathery that he began to eat. 

_It’s...a person._ Abigail sounded just as shocked as Wendy felt.

“A real person?” Wendy murmured? 

_Yes!_ Relief was evident in Abigail’s ghostly wisp of a voice. _I can feel it, he’s alive! Not a ghost. We found a person!_

“His hair’s weird,” Wendy muttered. The man looked to be all limbs, gangly and strange and covered in dark sleeves. His hair stuck out in strange angles, and he had gaunt, dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in ages. Then again, neither had Wendy. 

“Maybe we can snag some of that food if we cause a distraction…”

_What!? We can’t steal from him!_

“Even if he is human and not a new kind of monster, what makes you think we should trust him?” Wendy countered. 

_I...I don’t really know._ Abigail looked back at the man, who had sat down against a tree a little ways away from them and now appeared to be weaving something with grass. _But I have a good feeling about him. I think he can help._

“Hm.” Wendy began to shimmy down the side of the tree, keeping out of the stranger’s sight. Abigail gave her a disapproving look when she picked up a rock, but didn’t stop her from throwing it off to the side. It hit another tree with a solid THUNK!, prompting the man to lift his head in alarm. 

“For once,” he muttered in an slightly accented voice, “I’d like to not be attacked for a day.” He picked a large stick off the ground and went off in the direction of the rock. Once he had moved past the bushes, Wendy quickly scrambled out of her hiding spot and threw open the satchel left by the unfinished sheet of woven grass. 

_Stealing isn’t nice, Wendy_ , Abigail chided. _What would Mama and Papa say?_ Wendy ignored her. 

In the pack were bundles of rope, twigs, and grass, as well as what seemed to be a stack of dried and flattened reeds tied together like a book, with a leathery brown cover. Wendy’s curiosity overtook her and she lifted it out to examine more closely. 

Engraved on the front were a few rough slashes in the shape of a ‘W,’ and when Wendy opened the book, she found that the inside pages were filled with a thin, spidery script that appeared to be written in something dark and smeary. 

Day 12

_I am in an environment much harsher than that to which I am accustomed. Everything here is trying to kill me, or eat me, or... worse. It’s almost as bad as graduate school!_

_If I am to survive this place, I fear I must resort to dra-_

“Um, hello there?”

Wendy glanced up to see the man standing over her with a curious expression on his face. She gasped and dropped the book, scrambling backwards. 

“Wait, no, I’m sorry!” the man waved his hands anxiously. “I won’t hurt you, I promise!” 

He stepped forward and Wendy scurried back another five feet. The man frowned. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said again. Wendy stared at him blankly. He sighed. “Besides, uh...I don’t think _she_ would let me.”

Wendy glanced up to see Abigail hovering over them, her hands positioned where her hips would be if she was alive. 

“So, uh…” The man ran a hand through his mop of dark hair. “What-”

At that moment Wendy’s stomach chose to be extremely impolite. 

“Oh!” The man’s eyes widened as Wendy grimaced. “Oh, oh dear, of course…” He reached into the bag and took out a small sack, from which he drew one of the leathery things he had been eating. “Here.”

Wendy stared at it. 

“It’s just jerky. You can have it.”

When Wendy didn’t move, the man tilted his head and frowned. “What’s wrong? Do you not eat me-oh, hold on.” He ripped off a piece of the meat and popped it in his mouth. “Look, see? It’s safe to eat.” 

Wendy glanced from the offered food to the man’s face, biting her lip. Realization appeared in the man’s eyes. 

“Ah. Alright then.” The man pulled a small cloth out of the bag and spread it on the ground, laying a few pieces of jerky on top of it. He then picked up the bag and stepped back several paces. 

Wendy glanced back and forth between the man and the food. After seeing that he wasn’t moving, she darted out and snatched up the entire cloth, scarfing down the dry, leathery meat like it was chocolate morsels. She felt Abigail’s spirit calming beside her. 

As Wendy was licking her fingers clean, she realized that the man was observing her with a strange expression on his pale face. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glared at him challengingly. 

“There’s more where that came from, if you’d like,” he said softly, as if talking to a stray kitten. He was sitting on his knees, eye level with Wendy. She blinked. 

“...More?” her voice came out a hoarse whisper. 

“Yes. Back at my camp, with my friends,” the man said, smiling. “They’re really nice people, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. We’ve got lots of food and firewood, plenty to share.” 

As Wendy contemplated the risk versus reward of going with a random stranger she just met in an alien wilderness, Abigail floated over between the two of them, circling the man curiously. He stiffened as she approached, but allowed her to examine him, not moving even when she blew a puff of ghostly wind through his hair. 

_I like him_ , she decided. Wendy sighed. 

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

The man nodded, then gasped and put a hand over his chest. “Oh, where are my manners?” He stood up and bowed. “Wilson Percival Higgsbury, gentleman scientist.”

Wendy hesitated, then got up and nodded back at him. “Wendy Carter.” 

Abigail made a motion resembling a curtsey. “And this is my sister Abigail.”

The corners of the man’s eyes crinkled. “Pleased to meet you both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wilson isn't freaking out about Abigail being dead and transparent and exceedingly unscientific because I'm lazy and didn't want to write it and also I figure he's probably died a few times at this point and has at least gotten somewhat around to the idea of ghosts.


	2. The Hounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One would vastly prefer making it back to camp before nightfall in one piece. As opposed to, well, multiple.

“So...Abigail.”

“She’s dead, yes.” Wendy stared straight ahead, not quite looking at their new traveling companion. Mr. Higgsbury had been asking her several questions about Wendy, particularly about her family and interests. Wendy hadn’t been forthcoming with her answers, and she suspected that the man was probably more than a little irritated with her, though he didn’t show it. 

“That’s quite unfortunate,” said Mr. Higgsbury. “A telltale heart should fix her up right as rain though!”

Wendy stopped so suddenly she nearly fell over. “You can revive the dead?” Abigail was staring at him too, seemingly at a loss for words. 

Mr. Higgsbury shrugged. “Death is...strange here. I know it must sound inane, especially at your age, but this realm is teeming with all sorts of mysteries. I’m dedicated to finding the logical scientific explanation for all these phenomena though!” He puffed out his chest proudly, then deflated a bit and scratched his head. “I must admit it took an awful lot of experimentation...none of which was particularly pleasant, mind you.”

Wendy’s mind was buzzing. Abigail alive again…it was too good to be true but even the possibility? They’d be together again, for real...

Abigial herself was joyfully swirling around Mr. Higgsbury, who shivered as she ruffled his hair but smiled all the same. _This is wonderful, Wendy!! I can’t wait!_

Wendy managed to close her mouth before she swallowed any flies. “She...we’d both like to see that.”

Mr. Higgsbury nodded and made a motion as if to pat her on the shoulder, but drew back when Wendy subtly shifted away. 

“Well, erm,” he coughed. “We’d best be off then. Don’t want to get caught when the sun sets.”

Wendy nodded and they set off again. 

* * *

“Abigail wants to know more about your friends.”

“Oh, well there’s Miss Willow and Mr. Wolfgang,” Mr. Higgsbury said to Abigail. “Miss Willow is...well. She’s expressive. A bit loud sometimes and doesn’t like it when I spend all my time writing notes. It’s science! A good scientist makes constant observations! But yes, Miss Willow. A real character, I’ve never met anyone like her before.” 

Wendy eyed Mr. Higgsbury. She wasn’t sure she had ever met someone like him before either. 

“And Mr. Wolfgang?”

“Good man, rather scared of everything that moves but an honest friend and decent conversationalist, even with his trouble with English.” Mr. Higgsbury glanced at Abigail. “Not sure how he’ll react to you though…”

“Abigail says she’s excited to meet both of them,” Wendy said. She tilted her head. “Oh. She asks how old is Miss Willow?”

“Ah...I wouldn’t know,” Mr. Higgsbury said, scratching his head. “A gentleman doesn’t ask a lady her age, Abigail. It’s impolite.”

“Abigail isn’t a gentleman or bound by mortal mannerisms anyway,” Wendy replied. Mr. Higgsbury looked as if he was going to argue, but thought better of it. 

“Ah, there’s the camp,” he said suddenly. Wendy could see it in the distance - wooden walls surrounding something that was glowing inside - a fire, presumably. 

“There should be something nice in the pot for dinner tonight,” Mr. Higgsbury said. “Far better than jerky at least.”

Wendy’s eyes widened. “Like what?”

“Well, it’s not very fancy,” Mr. Higgsbury shrugged. “But we can make meatballs and kabobs, and my personal favorite, bacon and eggs for breakfast!”

Wendy felt her mouth water. “Do you...nevermind…”

“Hm? Did you have something in mind?”

“No, nothing that would be possible here.”

“Well, maybe I could use science to make something you’d like?” Mr. Higgsbury’s eyes glittered. “It would certainly be a challenge!” Abigail shook with silent ghostly giggles at the man’s expression. 

Wendy gave him a look. “Science or not Mr. Higgsbury, I think it’d be rather impossible for there to be bananas growing in this sort of climate.”

“You like bananas?”

Wendy blinked, then gave a small nod. 

“Well then,” Mr. Higgsbury smiled. “I promise to do my best to try to get you some.”

“If you want to try,” Wendy murmured. “I don’t think it’ll happen though.”

“Now Miss Carter, through the wonders of science, I think you’ll find that many things are po-”

A loud howling noise ripped through the red twilight, setting the hairs on Wendy’s neck on end.

Mr. Higgsbury paled. “Oh dear…”

_Aah! What was that?!_

“What is it?”

Mr. Higgsbury shook his head. “Don’t think, just run! And don’t look behind you!”

Wendy glanced back to see a group of enormous hairy beasts running straight for the two of them. She gasped and took off after Mr. Higgsbury, who was already sprinting towards the walls. 

“Faster! We need to get inside the gates!”

_Faster Wendy, faster!_

“I’m trying!” Wendy gasped. Her legs felt like they were on fire. She could almost feel the hot breath of the creatures’ at her neck, their snarls and growls ringing in her ears in a thunderous assault. Up ahead, she saw a section of the wall open up, two figures pushing it open like a gate. 

“Almost there!”

_WENDY! WATCH OUT!_

All of a sudden, Wendy felt something grab the edge of her skirt, causing her to fly forward into the dirt with a gasp. Before she could register what happened Wendy was struck by the sudden sensation of knives tearing into her leg. 

_WENDY!!!_

Her scream was nearly drowned out by a terrifying wail that echoed across the fields as Abigail’s rage colored her a dark red and the ghost girl struck out at the beasts, leaving long red gashes in their dark fur to match those on Wendy. The monsters howled in agony and lunged for Abigail, whose pale form shuddered as they struck her. 

“ABIGAIL!!” 

Suddenly Mr. Higgsbury was there, scooping Wendy up and running straight for the open gates. 

“NO! NO WE CAN'T LEAVE HER STOP I CAN'T LEAVE HER NO NO STOP STOP STOP!!! ABIGAIL!!”

Wendy dimly registered two other voices urging them on, but her focus was entirely on Abigail as the monsters slashed at her and she at them. 

“NO NO NO _NO!!!_ ABIGAIL! ABIGAIL!!” She screamed and twisted around in Mr. Higgsbury’s arms, sending a sharp wave of pain through her that mangled her cries into sobs of pain and desperation. “DON’T LEAVE ME! DON’T LEAVE ME!!!”

Abigail was getting smaller and smaller, and then suddenly Wendy was surrounded by warm yellow light and a large wooden gate was beginning to close…and her limbs felt so heavy...

“Don’t leave me...don’t leave me...” she sobbed and shook as she was passed to a different set of arms, leaning against clothes that smelled oddly of smoke. Blurry images swam around her and she heard voices arguing, a feminine one and two masculine ones. The smaller blurry shape ran back through the gap in the gates, followed closely by the much larger blur. The gap closed and Wendy weakly reached out an arm to the gates as everything around her grew nearly indiscernible.

“Abi...gail…”

The world went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit more dramatic now, isn't it?


	3. Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy wakes up.

Wendy’s brain was filled with a strange heaviness, her arms and legs weighed down by the ache of exhaustion. A throbbing pain was present in her right leg, and she felt as if something was constricting her movement.

As it turned out, Wendy discovered as she wriggled around a little, the something preventing her limbs from moving wasn’t a phantom sensation, but a thick fuzzy blanket tucked tightly around her. Wendy slowly blinked her eyes open to find herself lying down under what seemed to be a cloth canopy, lit by a soft yellow glow. 

She succeeded in turning her head around a bit, her vision slowly coming into more focus as she squinted at her surroundings. The light came from something sitting atop an overturned log - a little canister with a flower painted on its side. There were two wooden chests along the edge of the little space casting shadows on the fabric walls, a short ways away from where Wendy was lying down. Lying atop one of them was a torn mass of red fabric. 

At that moment, Wendy realized that she was wearing only her underthings. Now, any ordinary ten year old might be a bit more concerned about the fact that their clothes were lying torn up six feet away, but Wendy was not exactly ordinary, and her only thought about this new development was that her mother would not have been happy to hear that she’d destroyed her dress. 

Her next thought, as soon as her brain fog cleared a bit more, was of Abigail. 

“Ab-” her soft gasp ended in coughs, and she tasted something awful in her mouth. “Ugh…”

Abigail...where was Abigail? Wendy tried to sit up, but the throbbing pain in her leg and the restricted use of her arms were exceedingly unhelpful in this effort. She turned her head to her other side, where she saw a pale, closed up flower bud sitting on the woven mat that she was apparently lying on top of. 

Something stung at Wendy’s eyes and she insistently wriggled one arm out of her blanket cocoon, grabbing the bud and pulling it to her cheek. 

“I’m sorry…”

To her surprise, she felt a gentle tingle against her face, and a soft hum sounded in her ear, calling back memories of running through summer meadows holding hands with her sister. 

Wendy exhaled with relief. Abigail wasn’t quite gone yet. 

Suddenly, she heard the sound of fabric shifting and quickly closed her eyes, as if she was asleep. Wendy heard a shuffling and felt a presence sit down next to her, then the sound of a chest opening and being rummaged around in. 

Wendy peeked one eye open and saw a feminine figure sitting with her back to Wendy on the ground, dark hair tied in two long pigtails that lay on top of her red shirt. As Wendy watched, the woman picked up Wendy’s skirt and took it into her lap, then lifted a needle out of a small box and deftly threaded it. 

The woman had been sewing for less than a minute when she suddenly stopped and glanced behind her, her dark brown eyes meeting Wendy’s wide blue ones. 

“Oh,” the woman said simply, sounding a little unnerved. “You’re...awake. Cool.”

Wendy didn’t reply. What exactly was a proper greeting in such a situation?

“Hel-” she started coughing. 

“Oh uh, hold on, I’ll get you some water,” said the woman. She set down Wendy’s dress and disappeared through a cloth flap, leaving Wendy to contemplate her lack of social skills. Not that social skills were particularly helpful to Wendy even when she was not in life threatening situations. And that was only with the other kids at school, not adults. 

Adults never really seemed to like Wendy, besides her parents of course. But they were her parents and they were supposed to love her, though in the past year their relationship had been...well, Wendy had had other things to think about. She sighed and waited for the woman to return, staring up at the ceiling of the tent - it must be a tent - and trying to see if she could keep from blinking. 

When the tent flap opened again, the woman was carrying a small bucket that made a sloshy sound as she set it down next to Wendy. A rough hewn wooden ladle sat in the bucket, and while in another life Wendy might have wondered at the cleanliness of such a situation, today she simply stared blankly at it. 

“Do you need help sitting up?” Asked the woman. Wendy nodded, and the woman gently shifted the blankets around her before helping her upright. Wendy winced as the movement shifted her injured leg and bit her lip. The woman hesitated for a second, then draped another fur blanket - where had that come from? Over Wendy’s shoulders, before lifting the ladle out of the bucket and bringing it to the girl’s lips. 

The water was cool, if a bit musty tasting, and Wendy was grateful for how it washed away the bitter taste in her mouth. When she had finished she licked her lips and sighed. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“Sure,” said the woman, setting the bucket and ladle to the side. “So uh, how’s that leg doing?”

Wendy thought about it. “Bad.” 

The woman frowned. “Hmm. Well it’s about time to change your bandages, that should help.” 

“Okay.” 

The woman opened one of the chests and pulled out a small bag and something oblong and pale in color, as well as a small stone mortar and pestle. She emptied a gray powder from the bag into the mortar, then added the oblong object and began crushing them together. A sharp, acidic scent was released into the air, and Wendy’s nose wrinkled in distaste.

“What’s that?”

“Spider gland,” the woman said, grimacing. “It’s disgusting, but we use it for making a salve that helps disinfect wounds.”

“It comes from the spiders?” Wendy supposed that was rather resourceful.

“Mmhm.” The woman seemed satisfied with the mixture and took out a roll of white fabric. “Let me see that leg now.”

Wendy pulled the fur blanket up towards her chest, showing her bare legs. One was already wrapped in bandages that looked to be saturated with both a beige substance and a dark reddish stain. 

“Oh. It appears that I was bleeding a bit.”

“More than a bit,” the woman scoffed. Her expression softened as she unwrapped the old bandages. “Uh, sorry about your clothes by the way. If it helps, I promise it was just me, the men didn’t see anything.” 

That hadn’t really occurred to Wendy, but she supposed it was nice of them. “Thank you.” 

The woman nodded curtly as the last of the old bandages fell away, revealing a large bite mark on Wendy’s leg. The skin around it was red and raw, and the punctures were clogged with crusted over salve and not-quite-completely dried blood. Wendy stared at it. 

“I could have died,” she mused. The woman was giving her an odd expression, almost like the one Mr. Higgsbury had given her when they met. Wendy couldn’t place what it was. 

“I’m sorry kid,” the woman finally said, dipping her hand in the bowl of salve. “It’s a harsh world we’ve been thrown into, all of us. You’re lucky Wilson got you here before the hounds could do more damage.”

“Hmm…” Wendy would have to thank Mr. Higgsbury later. It was only polite.

“Now, uh, this is really going to sting so…”

“I’ll compose myself,” said Wendy calmly. The woman stared at her for a moment before gently applying the foul smelling paste to her leg. Wendy’s eyes widened. 

“Oh,” she said nonchalantly. “That does sting.”

“Yeah, can’t do much about that I’m afraid.”

“Hmm,” said Wendy as the woman wrapped new bandages around her leg. “Life brings pain, pain brings life.” 

The woman stopped and stared at Wendy, one eyebrow raised. Wendy stared back, unflinching. 

“Uh, sure, kid.” The woman wiped her hands on a fresh cloth taken from one of the chests. 

“Thank you for helping me ma’am,” Wendy said, remembering her manners. 

“No problem,” said the woman, shifting on her knees. “But uh, you can just call me Willow. And none of that miss stuff, okay? Wilson only gets a pass because I don’t want to argue with him about what’s ‘gentlemanly’ or not.” She punctuated the air with finger quotes for emphasis. 

“Okay.” Wendy thought for a moment. “I’m Wendy.” 

“Nice to meet you, Wendy,” said Willow, standing up and brushing dirt off of her black skirt. “You hungry?”

Wendy blinked. How long had it been since she had last eaten? 

“I...yes. Very.” How long had she slept?

Willow smiled. “Hang on, okay? I’ll grab you something. Then we can get you some better clothes and maybe say hi to everyone.”

“Okay. Thank you Mi-...Willow.”

Willow nodded. “No problem.” 


	4. The Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy gets a change of clothes and meets someone new.

Wendy tugged at the collar of the white shirt Willow had given her, Abigail’s flower tucked into a pocket. A blue skirt swished around her ankles, wide around her waist. 

“They’re a bit...large,” she said hesitantly. 

“One sec kid, I got it,” Willow took some thin and pointy things from a chest and pinned back the loose fabric on the skirt, helping Wendy to tuck in the hem of the shirt as she went. 

“What are those?” Wendy asked. 

“Bee stingers,” Willow said casually. “We can’t really make needles here, but stingers and hounds’ teeth work well enough. I’ll alter some of these later for you, but this should do for now.”

“Where did the clothes even come from?” Wendy rubbed the edge of the skirt between her fingers. “Did you bring these with you from home?”

“It’s...a bit hard to explain,” replied Willow, stepping back to assess the outfit. “But no, none of us really had time to prepare before we were brought here. Every once in a while we uh, get these...boxes, that have clean clothes inside.”

“Where from?”

Willow shrugged. “Don’t know, they just kind of appear? But hey, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” she seemed satisfied and went to Wendy’s side. “Are you okay with being carried?” Wendy nodded and Willow gingerly picked her up, being careful of her leg. 

“Huh, you’re pretty light…”

“The wind could blow me away easily, yes.”

Willow sighed and carried Wendy out of the tent. She blinked in the bright sunlight, covering her eyes. 

“Oof, sorry,”

“It’s okay,” Wendy murmured. When her eyes adjusted, they immediately went to a large stone encircled campfire, some logs lying nearby next to a stone pot on a tripod. Some ways away there were two other tents, and Wendy could see a pile of logs and stones beyond them. 

Sitting on the logs by the campfire were Mr. Higgsbury and a very,  _ very _ large stranger. Wendy gasped softly as the enormous man stood up, towering over Mr. Higgsbury like a giant in one of her old storybooks. His arms looked like they were as thick as Wendy’s whole body, and sported a huge bristly mustache on his face. 

“Tiny torchlady!” His voice was big and booming, and Wendy blinked her wide blue eyes in bewilderment. “Little girl is alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” said Willow as she set Wendy next to Mr. Higgsbury, who glanced up from a half-woven sheet of grass with a smile. 

“It’s good to see you awake, Miss Wendy,” he said warmly. “You gave us all a bit of a fright last night.”

“Hello little lady! Am Wolfgang!” the giant man beat a fist over his chest emphatically. 

Wendy stared at the man for a long moment. He smiled at her, but as the seconds ticked by he started to look a little uneasy. 

“Little girl has...very big eyes,” Wolfgang said, his voice small now. He coughed. “Erm...No like to talk?”

Wendy just stared. Wolfgang gulped. 

“I think you’re just overwhelming her a little,” Willow said with a chuckle. “It’s okay kid, Wolfgang is perfectly harmless.”

“At least to humans,” Mr. Higgsbury said offhandedly as he continued to weave grass. “Give her a moment, old boy.”

At last, Wendy found her voice. “Hi…”

Wolfgang only seemed to look even more nervous at that, his eyes darting around anywhere but at Wendy, who continued to stare at him blankly. Mr. Higgsbury put down the grass mat to glance between the two of them, with Willow doing the same. 

“Um...Wolfgang will get more wood for fire.” the man promptly walked away, leaving Wendy to stare at his back, her head tilted to the side. 

“...I think that could have gone better,” said Willow. Mr. Higgsbury coughed loudly. 

“Well! How are you doing, Miss Wendy?”

“Alright, all things considered,” Wendy said. It was a little easier talking to someone a little more familiar. “My leg hurts a lot, but Mi-Willow put some stuff on it.”

“Ah, very good.” Mr. Higgsbury clapped his hands together. “Now, the cuts were a bit deep, but a few weeks and they should heal over properly. Until then, rest is important.” 

“You heal fast in this place,” Willow added, sitting down on Wendy’s other side. “But that doesn’t mean you should be straining yourself any more than you have to. Something  _ somebody _ has a hard time understanding.” She rolled her eyes. Mr. Higgsbury gasped. 

“I beg your pardon, Miss Willow, I am the very image of health.”

“Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that.” Willow put her hands on her hips.

“I am! I put honey poultice on all my wounds, cross my heart,” said Mr. Higgsbury, placing a hand over his chest.

“Oh really? You didn’t use the bandages I gave you for an ‘experiment’ again without telling anyone?”

“Absolutely not, on my word as a renowned scientist!”

“I feel like we have very different definitions of the word  _ renowned _ .” Mr. Higgsbury looked positively aghast.

“Excuse me?!”

Wendy glanced between the two adults, feeling as if she might be interrupting something.

“Um.” They both swiveled their heads to stare at her. 

“Er...Thank you, Mr. Higgsbury,” Wendy said softly. “For bringing me here.”

“Ah well…” Mr. Higgsbury looked a bit mollified. “I don’t know if you should be thanking me.” He stared at the ground. “You did get hurt, after all.”

“That’s...alright,” Wendy said. “I didn’t die, and Willow says you brought back Abigail.” She pulled the flower out of the shirt pocket it had been resting in and brushed her fingers over its petals. Mr. Higgsbury looked up at her. 

“So...thank you.” 

“That flower is really important, huh?” Willow said gently. Wendy nodded. 

“It was my sister’s flower,” she said, stroking it delicately. “She’s gone far away.”

Willow glanced up at Mr. Higgsbury, who sighed. “Abigail was a ghost. I had hoped to revive her with a telltale heart when we got back, but it seems as though the hounds…”

“Ah…” Willow glanced at Wendy. “I’m...sorry to hear that…”

Wendy shook her head. “She’ll be back,” she said. “I can feel her. She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“...What?” Willow blinked. “She...huh?”

Mr. Higgsbury frowned. “Uh, Miss Wendy...would you mind explaining?” 

“Abigail’s right here,” said Wendy, as if it were obvious. She held up the flower to Mr. Higgsbury. “She’s very tired, but she’ll come play when she’s rested up.”

“Uh...okay,” Willow looked a bit sad for some reason. Wendy wasn’t sure why. “That’s...cool. We’ll...we’ll all be here to play when she’s awake then.” 

“It’s a fascinating idea,” said Mr. Higgsbury, putting a hand on his chin. “I’m afraid I’d have to see it to believe it though. You mean to say she’s resting in the flower?”

“It’s her flower.” Wendy said plainly.

Willow glared at Mr. Higgsbury, reaching over and prodding him in the side. “Shut up.” She stood up and brushed her pigtails back. “So uh, I’m gonna get some charcoal. You stay with the kid.”

“Well I-”

Willow was already gone past the tents. Mr. Higgsbury sighed and picked up the grass mat once again. 

“That woman,” he muttered to Wendy. “Sometimes I find her to be a puzzle beyond what science can solve.”

Wendy frowned. “You don’t get along well?” 

“We get along fine,” Mr. Higgsbury said dismissively. “A bit of bickering may be a nuisance but that doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” 

Wendy didn’t know much about having friends, but she decided to take his word for it. She watched with mild curiosity as the strands of grass quickly built up a tightly woven mass in his fingers. 

“What are you making?”

“A bedroll, for you to sleep on. It’s good to have one of your own.”

Wendy blinked, rolling the words around her mind. “...Willow gave up hers for me last night?”

“Well we couldn’t very well let you sleep on the ground,” said Mr. Higgsbury. “Mr. Wolfgang and I offered ours, but Miss Willow insisted.” He lifted the mat and spread it over the ground. “She can be rather stubborn when she wants to be.”

“Hmm,” said Wendy. Mr. Higgsbury seemed to realize something, glancing at her. 

“Do you want me to show you how to weave?”

Wendy nodded, and Mr. Higgsbury shifted over, placing the unfinished edge of the mat in her lap. 

“You take one blade like this…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pacing? We don't know her.
> 
> Also I forgot to mention but for this series, characters will be joining camp in the order that they get unlocked in-game, hence why only Wilson, Willow, and Wolfgang are currently present.


	5. Wolfgang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wendy has a chat with the strongman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for: some gore due to butchering animals
> 
> Editing Note: I forgot that Abigail wears her flower when in ghost form so all previous chapters have been edited to more accurately reflect that. 
> 
> Another Editing Note: Huh this one is longer than the rest so far
> 
> Last Editing Note: Summaries are really hard oh god

Wendy tugged experimentally at the edges of the rabbit trap she had just finished weaving. Thankfully, it didn’t come apart in her fingers the way the last two had, and she felt a small sense of satisfaction. 

“No, Chester,” she sighed as the fluffy orange creature nipped at her handiwork. “It’s not a toy.” She reached out with one hand and scratched the top of Chester’s...lid? Head? Between his horns anyway. Chester yipped and nuzzled Wendy’s side playfully. 

“Well look at that,” said Willow, taking the trap and poking at it. “You’re a quick study.”

“Thanks,” replied Wendy, trying to push a whining Chester off her lap. “How many more do we need?”

“Mm, maybe three more,” Willow said, tapping her chin with a finger. She glanced at Chester. “Looks like someone wants attention though.”

“I don’t know why he does that,” Wendy said, frowning. Willow whistled once and Chester perked up, hopping to her side and panting excitedly. The walking chest had been napping when she had first emerged from the tent a few days back, but as soon as Mr. Higgsbury had brought it out, it had leapt onto Wendy, knocking her over and licking her face enthusiastically. It had been quite the event. 

“Aw, he’s just excited because you’re new,” said Willow, patting Chester fondly and lifting his lid to take out some more grass. “He did the same thing to me when Wilson and I met for the first time. Here.”

Wendy accepted the armful of grass and started weaving the blades together methodically. It was a quiet activity, and not particularly interesting, but it was something she could do to contribute to the camp while her leg was healing, and she didn’t mind it. And Willow had promised to teach her to sew later, so she’d be able to fix her own clothes when they tore. 

“How’s your sister?” said woman asked out of the blue. Wendy paused. 

“Better,” she said. Abigail’s flower was sitting in a pocket, pinker and fuller than it had been yesterday. “I can feel her presence growing stronger by the day. Perhaps she’ll come out soon.”

“Mmm,” Willow folded a blade of grass down. Wendy suspected that she didn’t quite believe that Abigail was ‘in the flower,’ or that she’d be coming back. Mr. Higgsbury seemed to believe it, but he was Mr. Higgsbury and Wendy supposed that he wasn’t exactly your average adult. Adults never liked it when Wendy talked about Abigail to them. 

But, Wendy amended to herself, Willow didn’t grimace or shoo her away or try to make her talk about not-Abigail things that Wendy didn’t care about, like school or ‘ladylike pursuits’ (whatever that meant). Wendy appreciated that. 

“She’ll be excited to meet you and Mr. Wolfgang and Chester,” she said. “Abigail always wanted a pet, but our parents didn’t think that we were old enough to take care of one quite yet. And then she died and I stopped thinking about it. She’ll like Chester.”

“That’s...nice,” said Willow, “Chester’ll love her too, even if he’ll be disappointed that he can’t lick a ghost’s face.”

“Mmhm.”

“Well,” Willow declared after some time had passed, “Looks like we’re done for the day. I’ll go set these up by the rabbit holes, you okay on your own for a bit?”

Wendy nodded. “Mr. Higgsbury’s here too though,” she said, pointing in the direction of the “laboratory,” as the scientist called it. Said pointy-haired man was hard at work by his odd looking machines beyond the tents, with only the odd puff of colored smoke to indicate his presence. 

“Honestly I feel like it’d be more you looking after him” Willow mused as she placed the finished traps in an eagerly waiting Chester. “It’s hard to get him to think about anything else once he starts tinkering. What a weird guy huh?”

“No more bizarre than you or I, I believe,” Wendy replied. “That is to say, quite bizarre.” Willow chuckled at that. 

“Fair point. We’re all a bunch of weirdos here.” She picked up the eyebone and tucked it into her skirt. “Be back soon, kid.”

“Okay,” Wendy called. As Willow disappeared past the walls of the encampment, the young girl let out a sigh. 

There wasn’t much for her to do in camp. There were a few books that Mr. Higgsbury said they had found lying about the realm in odd places (did all lost things fall into this place?), but Wendy had already read all of them front to back, despite none of them being terribly interesting. And she couldn’t play fetch with Chester since he had gone with Willow. So Wendy flopped backwards onto the grass, stretching her arms out and staring up at the cloudless, grayish sky. 

“Well this is about as interesting as arithmetic,” she said after a few minutes to no one in particular. She pulled the flower out of her pocket and laid it on the grass next to her. “Here Abigail, you can lie down with me.” If only her sister was awake, then maybe they could at least talk together. 

Wendy stayed like that for a bit, occasionally spotting a bird cross her vision. Then she heard the creaking sound of the wooden gates opening and a rumbling, loud set of footfalls coming towards her. She didn’t have to sit up to know it was Mr. Wolfgang, back from hunting. 

The footfalls abruptly stopped, and then seemed to shuffle awkwardly in a different direction. Wendy sat up and met Mr. Wolfgang’s startled gaze, holding it steady. 

“Hello Mr. Wolfgang,” she said politely. The giant man’s eyes darted around and Wendy thought he looked oddly nervous, for a man who was carrying two dead Gobblers strung up on a large stick across his shoulders. 

“Why are you shaking?” Wendy tilted her head to the side curiously. Come to think of it, Mr. Wolfgang had barely talked to her since she first arrived in camp. He always seemed to have gone off somewhere by the time Wendy woke up in Willow’s tent, and didn’t speak much at dinnertimes even when one of the other adults prompted him. 

“Is...where torchlady and science man?” 

“Willow went to set up rabbit traps, and Mr. Higgsbury is in his laboratory,” Wendy replied, picking bits of grass out of her hair. 

“O-oh. Okay. Maybe tiny girl should check on science man?” 

“I think he’ll be fine,” said Wendy. “I don’t think walking over there will be good for my leg anyway.” 

“Ah yes, yes…” Mr. Wolfgang nodded, biting his lip. “Apologies, Wolfgang forgets sometimes…” He set down the two Gobblers, eyes darting back to Wendy as he untied their legs from the stick. “You are not uncomfortable watching cutting up of birds? Wolfgang can go elsewhere.”

“Not particularly. To survive, there must be death of other living things. It’s only natural.” Wendy stared at the dead Gobblers, their eyes large and unseeing. “And I kind of want to see? This is more interesting than the sky.”

“...Okay,” said Mr. Wolfgang slowly, pulling a large flint blade out of his pocket. “If tiny lady wants to see…”

Wendy watched intently as Mr. Wolfgang stripped the feathers off of the Gobblers and laid them in a pile to the side (glancing at her every few seconds for some reason, maybe to check if she was freaked out?), then took a bucket from one of the communal chests near the fire pit and held the neck of one bird over it. With one quick motion the head was sliced clean off, and blood gushed out into the bucket like a red waterfall. 

“Gross,” said Wendy, wrinkling her nose at the irony smell that filled the air. 

“Yes, is messy,” said Mr. Wolfgang as the flint blade sliced into the now headless bird’s flesh. 

“Have you done this a lot before?”

Mr. Wolfgang hesitated. “Yes,” he finally said. “Wolfgang grew up on farm with ducks. This similar to chores at home.” 

“Where did you grow up?” Asked Wendy. Again, her companion was slow to answer. 

“The beautiful countryside of Russia,” he said, and Wendy could hear a wistful tone in his voice. “I have not seen it in years, not since I move to America.”

“Didn’t you visit home every once in a while?”

“Boat trip expensive,” Mr. Wolfgang replied, seeming less hesitant now. “Wolfgang sent most of money back to mother on farm.” His eyes grew sad. “Mother very old when Wolfgang last get letter. I hoping she is alright but…”

He shook his head and set about wrapping the Gobbler drumsticks in sheets of papyrus. “Little girl does not want to hear about old Wolfgang’s sadness.”

“It’s okay,” Wendy said in a small voice. Mr. Wolfgang looked up at her in surprise. 

“I miss my family too,” she said, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. “My mother and father aren’t old, but I bet they’re really worried about me. I...I think they might think that I ran away.” She sighed.

Her parents...she had been gone for about seven days now. In her mind she saw her father calling the police, staying out hours after dark calling for her in the fields around their home. While her mother would iron her clothes over and over, organizing her and Abigail’s things with the hope that she would return. And the arguments about Abigail...perhaps they did think she had run away. Or even...

Mr. Wolfgang exhaled, his face softening and his shoulders relaxing. “You really are just little girl,” he said in wonderment. Wendy stared at him. 

“I’m ten,” she said with slight indignation. Mr. Wolfgang stared back at her, then suddenly broke out into a great rumble of laughter. 

“Haha! Yes, big little lady now eh?” He wiped his hands on a spare rag taken from a chest. “Ah, Wolfgang was silly to be frightened.”

“Frightened?” Wendy frowned. “Of what?”

“Is nothing,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Wolfgang will now put away meat and get rid of bird guts. I will be back soon.” 

“Okay,” said Wendy, watching his retreating form curiously. What had all that been about? 

The next morning Wendy found a small pillar of roughly cut stone outside of Willow’s tent. Sitting on top was a slightly cracked but mostly intact porcelain vase with a pink flower design, filled with ashes and covered by a little wooden roof. 

“Is memorial for sister,” Mr. Wolfgang said. “Wolfgang heard from fire lady that you missed visiting sister’s grave, wanted to help. Found pretty flowerpot in chest last week, thought sister would like the pink.”

Wendy was silent. Mr. Wolfgang coughed. 

“Is...you no like?”

Wendy reached out and brushed a bit of dust off of the vase. 

“Can we...get some flowers for it?”

Mr. Wolfgang exhaled. 

“Of course, little lady.” 


	6. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for themes of death and slight existential crisis.

“Ready?”

Wendy nodded, her eyes trained on her target. 

“Aaaand, go!”

Willow pushed it off and the wagon wheel rapidly shot towards Wendy, who shifted her stance as it approached, clutching a ball of tied up grass in her right hand. She had to time it just right…

There! Wendy threw the ball, and it soared right through one of the spaces in the spokes of the wheel, bouncing along the ground merrily. Willow cheered, running towards her with a bright smile on her face. 

“You did it! Five more points!”

“Too bad I didn’t get the middle though,” Wendy remarked.

“Well, you can try again after my turn,” said Willow as Wendy walked over to the wheel. All of a sudden, an orange blur shot past and took it up in its jaws, hopping away with an excited yip!

“Chester!” Wendy chased after the mischievous creature, her leg barely aching from the effort of running. Willow had been right, wounds healed awfully fast in this world. Even the puckered pink scarring along Wendy’s leg appeared more faded than yesterday. 

“Give it back!” Wendy gasped (fast healing did not make for improved athleticism, which had never been Wendy’s strong point), the orange puff somehow just staying out of reach as it hopped about, the wooden wheel wobbling around like mad. 

“Chester, here boy!” called Willow. Chester immediately skidded to a stop and turned towards the sound of her voice, just as Wendy dove for him and tumbled straight overhead, landing on her back in the slightly damp spring grass with an “Oof!”

As the world stopped spinning for Wendy, Chester appeared at the side of her vision. 

“And...and just what do you think you’re doing?” Wendy gasped, breathless. 

“Ptoo!” 

The wheel, slightly slimy, fell onto Wendy’s face with a gentle, painless thud. 

“Pfffftahahahahahaha!!!” Willow clutched her sides in mirth, wiping a tear from her eye. 

“It’s not funny,” Wendy grumbled, though she didn’t make the effort to get up as Chester started enthusiastically licking her face. 

“Having fun you two?” said a slightly British-accented voice out of the blue. 

“Oh, hey Wils!” Wendy heard a thud and an “ow,” which meant that Willow had just playfully elbowed Mr. Higgsbury in the ribs. 

“You wanna join in?” Willow asked as Wendy made a halfhearted effort to push Chester away. 

“I’m sure it’d be delightful,” said Mr. Higgsbury evenly, “But ah, you did finish sorting the scavenged scrap, didn’t you?”

“Yeah yeah, there isn’t that much right now anyway, just a bunch of cans and stuff.” Wendy didn’t see it, but she knew that Willow was waving her hand at Mr. Higgsbury in that way that made him roll his eyes. 

“Well, I just came to let you two know that supper is almost ready,” Mr. Higgsbury said. “Uh...Wendy, are you going to get up?”

“The earth has claimed me now,” said Wendy, closing her eyes. “It will soon swallow me whole, and return my flesh to the crawling insects.”

A drip of Chester spit fell on her cheek with a little splat, and Willow scoffed good-naturedly. 

“Well alright,” said Mr. Higgsbury. “But maybe you can return to the earth after filling your stomach. I’ve tried something new today with the rabbit meat, and I don’t think you’ll want to miss it.” 

Wendy opened her eyes. 

“I suppose I can delay succumbing to the soil until after supper.” 

“Pfft, okay kid,” said Willow with a smirk. 

* * *

Before changing out of her slightly damp, grass-stained clothes (she had recently gotten some new ones in her size, appearing, as Willow had said, in mysterious gift boxes out of nowhere), Wendy reached into her pocket to take out Abigail’s flower. 

Gasping suddenly, Wendy pulled out the flower to find that it was fully bloomed, pulsing with a soft white glow and emanating a presence that was almost overpowering in how bright it was, bubbly and giggly and tinged with a nearly oppressive weight that Wendy felt deep in her heart. 

“Abigail!”

Wendy cupped her hands around the flower and burst out of Willow’s tent, running straight for the fire pit where the others were sitting around a covered pot. 

“Wendy? What’s wrong?” Mr. Higgsbury frowned as she approached, gasping. 

“Abigail’s ready!” Wendy said, louder than she meant to. All three adults glanced at each other, then back at her. Chester perked up from his position by Mr. Higgsbury’s legs, wondering what all the fuss was about. 

“What is meaning, little lady?” asked Mr. Wolfgang. 

“She’s finished resting!” said Wendy. “She can come out to say hello now!”

Willow sighed, and Mr. Higgsbury and Mr. Wolfgang glanced at each other worriedly. 

“Kid,” said Willow softly. “I don’t think-”

“It’s true!” Wendy opened her hands to show them the glowing flower, which floated a few centimeters off of her palms. After a beat, all the adults gasped and recoiled, and Mr. Wolfgang shuddered. Chester yelped and scuttled behind Mr. Higgsbury, whining pitifully. 

“Is making Wolfgang scared!”

“W-what’s with that flower?” Willow shivered. “It feels so weird!”

Wendy frowned. “It’s just Abigail’s spirit, she’s regained her strength.”

“Wendy,” Mr. Higgsbury said slowly, sounding very nervous. “Why don’t you put that down and let me take a look, alright?”

Wendy shook her head. “It’s okay, she’s been waiting to meet all of you. She just needs some space.” 

“Wendy-”

Before Mr. Higgsbury could reach her, Wendy nuzzled the flower to her cheek, then tossed it up into the air. Swirls of light appeared, spinning together until they formed a human figure, the flower landing neatly at the side of her translucent head. Abigail’s eyes opened, her face breaking out into a warm smile. 

_Wendy! Oh Wendy!_

Wendy’s eyes were wide and watery as Abigail quickly circled around her, examining Wendy closely. 

_Are you okay? That was a nasty monster!_

“Yes,” said Wendy softly. “I’m alright now, Abigail.”

_Oh, phew...I was really worried…_

Abigail suddenly seemed to notice something. _Oh! Hello Mr. Higgsbury! Hello other people I haven’t met yet!_ She waved excitedly to the adults, who Wendy realized were standing stock still, staring at the twins with their mouths hanging open. 

Chester’s lid flopped open as if mimicking the others. Abigail giggled. 

“Wh-huh? What??!” Willow spluttered. “What is that?”

“G-g-g-gk!” Mr. Wolfgang’s knees were curled up into his chest, his large arms wrapped around them like a lifeline. 

“It’s Abigail,” said Wendy plainly. “My twin sister.”

“Er, yes,” said Mr. Higgsbury, who of the three seemed to be more curious than disturbed. “Hello again, Abigail. Are you, ah...well?”

Abigail giggled. _Better now!_ With a swoosh, she floated over to the adults and began to circle Willow and Mr. Wolfgang. _Hi there!_

Mr. Wolfgang shrieked in a surprisingly high-pitched tone and ducked behind Willow, though Wendy noted that Willow’s slim figure hardly hid any of Mr. Wolfgang’s massive bulk. 

_O-oh,_ Abigail floated back slightly. _Whoops._

“Don’t be scared, Mr. Wolfgang,” said Wendy, walking closer. “Abigail just wants to be friends.”

“Uh...It’s okay big guy,” said Willow blankly, patting Mr. Wolfgang’s hand gently. She stared at the cheery specter in front of her. “Hey...Abigail. I’m, uh...Willow.”

 _Hi Willow!_ Abigail tilted her head curiously at the woman. _I like your pigtails!_

“She likes your hair,” said Wendy, and Willow visibly relaxed, lowering her shoulders with a sigh. 

“Uh, thanks Abigail,” she said. “Yours is nice too.” 

Abigail gave her a gap-toothed grin. 

Chester yipped excitedly at seeing that the newcomer wasn’t dangerous, jumping up and nipping at Abigail’s ghostly tail. Abigail gasped in delight and started whooshing around in little circles, chased closely by the sentient chest. 

_Hi there little guy! You’re adorable!!!_

“What do you know,” said Willow in awe. “He does love her.”

“Cute,” muttered Mr. Higgsbury, a small smile on his face. 

“She really won’t hurt you, Mr. Wolfgang,” Wendy said to the large man, who was still shaking as he peeked over the top of Willow’s head. He looked at Wendy. 

“Little lady promises?”

“Pinky promise,” said Wendy, holding out her hand, pinky upturned. Mr. Wolfgang hesitated, then hooked his own pinky around Wendy’s. She gave it a gentle shake. 

Mr. Wolfgang took a deep, shuddering breath, then slowly stepped out from behind Willow, who rubbed the shoulder he had been clutching with a slightly pained expression before taking a tired out Chester into her lap. 

“H-Hello,” he said, twisting his hands together. Abigail smiled encouragingly at him. 

_Hello!_

“N-name Wol-w…” Mr. Wolfgang let out a strangled cough. 

“A-ah...s-s-sorry…”

Wendy stepped forward and reached up to put her hand over Mr. Wolfgang’s. He blinked and stared down at her, their eyes meeting. Then, slowly, his shoulders loosened, and he took Wendy’s hand in his. Wendy squeezed his hand gently, and Mr. Wolfgang exhaled. 

“H-hello,” he said again, looking up at Abigail. “N-name Wolfgang. F-friend of little l-lady.” 

_Hi Mr. Wolfgang!_ Abigail waved. _I’m sorry I scared you...I hope we can be friends too!_

Mr. Wolfgang hesitated, then gave a little wave in return with his free hand. 

“I must say,” said Mr. Higgsbury, scratching his chin. “I wasn’t aware that Abigail could come back after being destroyed like that.”

“I didn’t either, really,” Wendy said softly. “But she just went in the flower to rest after exhausting herself fighting.”

“So uh, I guess we can try reviving her now?” Willow crossed her arms. “It should work, yeah?”

“Ah, yes, I’ll go get a heart!” Mr. Higgsbury rushed off towards his laboratory. Wendy turned to Abigail, her heart in her throat. 

“This is it Abby,” she said hoarsely. “We’re going to be together again…”

Abigail smiled at her. _I can’t wait, Wendy. You think Mama and Papa will be pleased when we go home?_

Wendy’s hands shook as she held them behind her back. “I…”

“Here it is!” 

Mr. Higgsbury was holding an odd lump in his hands, something squishy looking tied up with grass rope and stained with a dark reddish substance. To Wendy’s surprise as he drew closer, she could see the lump pulsing ever so slightly, giving it the appearance of a beating human heart. It was something like one of the illustrations in an anatomy book from Wendy’s father’s study. 

“Er, Wendy, would you like to do it?” Mr. Higgsbury asked. 

She hesitated, glancing at Abigail, then nodded. As the others watched, Mr. Higgsbury placed the telltale heart in Wendy’s hands. It was heavier than she expected, and oddly warm. It continued to beat, pulsing against her palms steadily. It was a bizarre sensation. 

“H-how do I do it?”

“Just push it into the space where her heart would be,” Mr. Higgsbury said gently. Wendy nodded, turning to Abigail, who floated closer, until their eyes were level. She took a deep breath. 

“Ready?”

_Ready._

Wendy stepped forward, moving the heart through Abigail’s ghostly chest. 

A long moment passed. 

“That’s...weird,” muttered Willow. Chester made a questioning whine, turning to look up at her. 

“What?” asked Wendy. “Is it working?”

“It _should_ be working,” said Mr. Higgsbury, sounding confused. “Her body should have reformed around the heart instantly.” 

Wendy turned back to Abigail, whose face had taken on a melancholy expression. She drew the heart back, then pushed it through Abigail’s chest again. And again. 

“Why isn’t it working, Abigail?” she asked hoarsely. Abigail looked away. 

_I’m sorry, Wendy…_

“No!” Wendy shook her head, shoving the heart forward again. “No no no NO!”

“Wendy-” Mr. Higgsbury started. Wendy felt something wet running down her cheeks. She didn’t care. 

“Why won’t it work?! You said it would work!” 

“Wendy,” said Willow gently. “How long was Abigail dead?”

“I...I…” Wendy choked on her words. “A-almost a year.”

Mr. Wolfgang put a hand over his mouth, and Mr. Higgsbury’s face contorted into a horrified expression. 

“W-what is it?” 

“She didn’t die in the Constant, then?” Willow asked. Wendy nodded. 

“Does it...does it not work if…”

“I don’t know,” Willow sighed. “But there are other ghosts here, ghosts that don’t respond to the hearts. We think that maybe after some time...the connection between the soul and the...physical world or whatever just...stops. So Abigail…”

“Can’t come back,” murmured Mr. Higgsbury. “I’m so sorry Wendy, you said you’d only been here for a few days so I thought-”

Wendy’s breaths grew ragged as she sunk to her knees, the telltale heart slipping from her fingers and rolling off into the grass. 

_Wendy?_

“You can’t,” she said, her voice tiny. “We’re twins, we can’t be apart! I can’t…”

 _Wendy…_ Abigail sunk down to her level. Wendy stared into her sister’s pale eyes, the glow of the fire shining right through them. 

_I’m sorry Wendy...I think I’m meant to stay dead._

“No!” Wendy shook her head violently, her pigtails swinging back and forth. “I can’t! I can’t do this without you!”

“Wendy…” Mr. Higgsbury reached for her shoulder. Wendy jumped up and slapped his arm away, running towards Willow’s tent with a strangled cry. 

“Wendy!” 

“Little lady!” 

Wendy didn’t look back, throwing herself through the tent opening and rushing straight to her bedroll, ducking under the fur blanket and pulling it over her head. Tears streamed down her face as she shook, her breaths tearing out of her in silent gasps. 

She hadn’t cried this much since Abigail had died. Wendy thought she had emptied herself completely of tears then, with none left over for the funeral. Instead, she had held her father’s hand, a blank expression on her face as she watched the casket lowering into the ground. Her mother had been a mess, face completely stained with sorrow under the mourning veil, clutching at Wendy like she was the only thing keeping her from throwing herself into Abigail’s grave along with the flowers and soil. 

After that, Wendy couldn’t cry anymore. 

She heard a quiet knocking outside, as if someone was rapping on a piece of firewood in lieu of an actual door. 

“Go away,” she said weakly. 

“Is just Wolfgang, little lady,” a gentle, rumbling voice said. Wendy didn’t answer. She heard the flap of the tent open and sensed the large man sitting down on the ground with a thud. 

“Wolfgang will not make little lady say anything,” he said softly. Wendy hiccuped. 

They stayed like that for some time, Wendy shaking under the blanket, Mr. Wolfgang sitting beside her, not saying a word. 

“Wh-why,” she suddenly said, choking on her tongue as she sat up, the blanket sliding down. “Why is death so unfair?”

Mr. Wolfgang didn’t answer, but she saw him turn to look at her out of the corner of her eye. 

“Why do good people have to die? Why do children die? There’s no reason, no reason at all, and yet everyone, everyone dies!”

She turned to stare into Mr. Wolfgang’s eyes, which were heavy with sorrow. 

“Everyone is going to leave me,” she said, voice tiny and strained. “Everyone is going to die and leave me behind, and I’ll be all alone, all alone…”

She started shaking again, wrapping her arms around her legs and hiccuping violently. 

“Death is the only constant in the world. The only thing that you can’t escape…the only thing that takes and takes and we keep living as if it’s not on the horizon, ready to take more and more until nothing is left!”

She let out a sob and buried her face in her knees, shuddering. 

Mr. Wolfgang sighed and Wendy heard him lean back slightly. 

“Wolfgang does not have the words in English,” he said slowly, hesitantly. “But words not always helpful.”

Wendy tilted her head ever so slightly up. 

“Wolfgang knows that he cannot understand little lady’s gr..gray...sadness,” Mr. Wolfgang said. “But Wolfgang will sit with little lady for now, and Wolfgang will not go unless you say to.”

Wendy blinked, eyes wide and watery. Mr. Wolfgang held her gaze, a determined expression on his face. 

Wendy launched herself towards him, wrapping her arms around one of his giant ones and squeezing hard, tears splashing onto the ground as she shook. Mr. Wolfgang wrapped his other arm around her tiny form, careful not to crush her with his strength. 

“Kid?”

Wendy opened her eyes to see Willow standing at the opening of the tent, Abigail peeking over her shoulder as if trying to be hidden and Chester at her ankles, whimpering. 

Wendy reached an arm out to them, a pleading whine escaping her throat. Willow looked hesitant, but Abigail wailed, zooming over the woman’s shoulder to surround Wendy’s other side, a chilly breeze at Wendy’s back. 

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry...I’m here, okay? I’ll always be with you._

Wendy hiccuped and nodded, even though Abigail couldn’t hug her like she wanted. 

Wendy felt a much warmer, human form press against her back, and a hand lightly smeared with ash began to run softly through her hair alongside Abigail’s intangible one, as if making up for Abigail’s inability to hold her. Chester’s furry head nuzzled her side, tucking himself under her arm. 

“Shhh,” Willow murmured, somewhat awkwardly. “It’s okay kid…”

A shuffle was heard outside the tent, and Wendy looked up expectantly. When no one appeared, Abigail let out a soft sigh. 

_He feels guilty about...ah come on._

She vanished through the cloth flaps (quite literally through the cloth instead of pushing it aside), and Wendy barely had time to whimper at the loss of her sister’s presence when she reappeared, a nervous looking Mr. Higgsbury right behind holding a bowl of something steaming hot. 

“I, er, I understand if you want me to go but your sister seemed rather insistent and ah, well I don’t know if-”

“Get in here, idiot,” snapped Willow crossly, and Mr. Higgsbury had the good sense to shut up and set the bowl on top of one of Willow’s log seats before she yanked him by the arm towards them. 

“I-I don’t know if-”

Wendy bit her lip and stared up at Mr. Higgsbury with big eyes, causing him to falter. 

“Please stay,” she whispered, and his nervous expression softened. 

“Okay...okay.” 

Black gloved arms nervously added themselves to the pairs surrounding Wendy, and she held on tight. 

“Oh, er, I thought you might be hungry since we didn’t have supper yet…”

Mr. Higgsbury set the bowl in Wendy’s lap, a meaty, enticing smell wafting up to her nose. It was filled with pale, doughy half-moon shapes, and Wendy suddenly felt rather peckish. 

“It’s a boiled dumpling called pierogi,” Mr. Higgsbury said as Wendy gingerly picked one of the lumps up, her fingers burning slightly. “My grandmother used to make them, and I thought I’d give it a try.” 

Willow popped one into her mouth as Wendy examined the dumpling. 

“Hot, like I like ‘em,” the woman said, and Abigail let out a snort of amusement. Wendy took a delicate bite of the pierogi, chewing slowly. The dumpling dough was damp and bitter, and it was still too hot, nearly burning her tongue. The filling was chopped up rabbit meat, dry and lean and tough to chew. Despite that, it was fantastic. 

Tears started streaming down her face again, and she heard the adults and Abigail exclaim in concern. Chester made a questioning whine, nipping at Wendy’s sleeve. 

“It’s okay,” she said, sniffling. 

She wasn't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Wendy is suicidal. I think she's unhealthily obsessed with death because she feels it brings her closer to Abigail and is fixated on how death takes everything she loves, leaving life meaningless. Rather than wanting to die to be with her sister, Wendy wants nothing more than to bring Abigail back to life. Her quotes for some of the ghosts are mournful, sad that "everyone leaves." She even begs Wigfrid's ghost to come back! (she does comment to Winona that "You can't escape that way, I've tried," but I take this to mean that Wendy died once and tried to use it to escape the Constant out of curiosity). This is a lonely young child and she deserves all the love and banana pops in the world and I am very emotional about it. 
> 
> This isn't the end of Wendy's story, but it's a good time for me to announce that updates will be slowing down from now on - college has started again and I'll be a bit more busy, but I'll still try to update frequently! I have plans for this series and I'm excited to show you all what I have in store, including some separate fic ideas I'm currently workshopping. In the meantime, come send an ask to me on my tumblr if you like (@birbliophile). 
> 
> Chester is like, I dunno, two feet tall? 
> 
> For the purposes of this series Wilson is a naturalized American citizen of English descent, but Polish on his maternal grandmother's side. Warly makes much better wilderness-pierogi than him (where do you find flour out there?). 
> 
> This chapter is very long, consistency is dead to me. I hope Wendy doesn't come across as OOC, I feel like she kind of deserves a good cry honestly.


	7. The Automaton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A potential enemy, a potential friend? Wendy's not sure.

_Ooh, it’s coming along real nicely!_

“Thanks Abby, Willow says that my stitches are getting better too,” Wendy said as she snapped off another length of thread with her teeth. The large sheet of spider-silk cloth, made from smaller squares, was bunched up over her lap as she worked on it, small stitches done with unraveled thread from spare pieces of unwanted clothing. 

_Maybe you can ask Willow to help you with embroidery too?_ Abigail swished over to Wendy’s other side, the sheet billowing out as she floated over it. _It would be a lot prettier if you put some flowers on it, and you’d be able to tell it apart from the other tents easier._

“I’ll consider it,” said Wendy. She felt as if she had asked enough of Willow already. Not to mention that the woman had been quite gracious to share a space with her for so long and so very suddenly - that was the whole reason Wendy had asked for some silk to make her own tent. 

Just as Wendy was about to rethread the needle, an angry yell echoed throughout the camp. She and Abigail raised their heads curiously as Mr. Higgsbury appeared, running for the gate. 

“NOT AGAIN! I SWEAR TO FU-”

“MISS WILLOW!” 

Wendy jumped up and followed after Mr. Higgsbury, Abigail close behind. Willow was standing in the fenced-in area where they had set up a little farm. As the twins approached Wendy could see that it was scattered with holes and knocked over signs. The makeshift scarecrow, made of spare clothes stuffed with straw, was lying pitifully across the patch, charcoal drawn eyes looking woefully forlorn. 

“Miss Willow are you injured?” Mr. Higgsbury gasped, leaning breathlessly against the fence. 

“It’s not that, ugh,” Willow crossed her arms. “Those stupid rabbits dug up the farm again!”

Wendy smoothed a rough patch of dirt with her foot, covering up a torn scrap of greenery. “Poor seeds,” she said solemnly. “Uprooted in their slumber, never to know peace.” 

“At this rate it’d be more worth it to hunt spiders,” Willow scoffed. “What a mess.”

“Hmm,” Mr. Higgsbury frowned. “Are we sure it’s rabbits?” He knelt down at the fence and pushed at the boards. “There are no holes or weak spots for them to get in, and no chew marks on the fence posts.”

“I…” Willow faltered. “That’s weird...” she narrowed her eyes. “What kind of animal could get in then? And how?”

“Maybe hounds?” Wendy offered. Abigail patted the poor fallen scarecrow comfortingly. 

“I don’t think so,” Mr. Higgsbury murmured. “Hounds would simply knock down the fences. There’s no damage here at all.”

“Then I suppose whatever it was used the gate?” Willow snarked. “Maybe spiders crawled up the sides.”

“There are no nests nearby,” Wendy reminded her. “Abby cleared them all out.” the ruthless huntress in question grinned widely and made a thumbs up. 

“It would have had to be the gate,” Mr. Higgsbury insisted, swinging the wooden door to the garden back and forth curiously. “But the only things here that could use something like this are the pigs, who have their own sources of food, and…”

Willow blinked. 

“You aren’t saying-” 

Wendy caught on. 

“Humans,” she said, and Willow turned to her incredulously. 

“That can’t be right. I’m sure we would have spotted a new person by now.”

“Maybe they don’t want to be seen,” Wendy suggested. Mr. Higgsbury turned around, looking pensive. 

“Hmph, bet Maxwell’s getting tired of us hiding away from his hounds,” Willow sighed. “Figures he’d eventually come up with some sort of monster that can open doors.” 

“We still don’t know if it’s a monster,” Mr. Higgsbury mused. “Though I wouldn’t put that past Maxwell. Whatever it is, we should be on our guard. Maybe we could move the farm inside the walls for the time being?”

“Better clean this up first,” Willow said, kneeling down and picking shards of wood off the ground. 

Wendy hummed as she and Mr. Higgsbury went to help. Why, she wondered to herself, would Maxwell wait so long to devise a monster that could breach the walls of the camp? Unless his power was not as unlimited as it seemed…

She didn’t know much about the mysterious king of the Constant, besides the moment he had whisked her away to this odd land with beautiful and false promises. Though he had looked oddly familiar for a reason she couldn’t quite place. 

That was the nature of demons, Wendy thought to herself. Taking the appearance of something comforting to lure in their victims. Like a spider to a fly. 

* * *

Wendy was awakened by the sound of Mr. Wolfgang yelling something in what she thought was very stuttering Russian. Next to her, Willow shot up from her bedspread, grabbing the spear she kept nearby as Wendy blearily sat up, rubbing her eyes. Abigail looked up from her resting spot next to Wendy, a touch of fear in her ghostly pallor. 

_What’s going on?!_

“...Willow?”

“Stay here girls,” Willow said firmly as she vanished through the tent flaps, a fierce look on her face. 

Despite having once been ten years old herself, Willow had apparently forgotten what children are prone to when one tells them to stay put. After a brief contemplation, Wendy pulled the beefalo fur tight around herself and followed, Abigail trailing by her side. She didn’t bother putting on shoes, stockinged feet pattering through the dry grass with a slight crunching noise. 

Mr. Higgsbury burst out of his tent not a second after, prompting the twins to duck behind the woodpile nearby. They peeked around it to watch as the gates closed on a flash of the scientist’s red vest, and Wendy groaned in frustration. 

_Let’s try to listen in?_ Abigail suggested. Wendy nodded. She scrambled up the woodpile, which was just tall enough to allow her to see over the fence, though she had to be careful of the sharpened ends of the logs. Keeping low, she was just able to see the adults gathered below. 

Mr. Higgsbury was standing behind Willow and Mr. Wolfgang, who both had their spears pointed towards-

_Whoaaaaaa!!_

“STAND DOWN, PUNY FLESHLINGS.” 

Wendy could only describe it as a coppery-colored robot, humanoid in appearance and perhaps a little shorter than Mr. Higgsbury, though visibly taller than Willow. It was like nothing she had ever seen before, except perhaps in storybooks. She stretched out a little further to see better. 

“What a strange being,” she murmured to Abigail. 

Willow jabbed her spear threateningly into the air, her long dark hair swishing loose around her shoulders. “Shut up, ya bucket of bolts. Tell your master that we’re not interested in dying today.” 

“Listen to torchlady,” Mr. Wolfgang said, his booming voice quivering only slightly. “Wolfgang will not hesitate to smash if tiny robot gets too close.” 

“UUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH,” the robot groaned tinnily, causing Willow to make a face. “I DO NOT HAVE THE TIME NOR PATIENCE FOR THIS. HAND OVER THE GEARS YOU HAVE ACQUIRED.”

“What does Maxwell want with gears?” Willow asked, her voice low. 

“I DO NOT KNOW OF NOR CARE ABOUT THIS ‘MAXWELL’ CHARACTER YOU SPEAK OF,” the robot said, sounding almost bored. “JUST GIVE ME THE GEARS. THEY WILL BE BETTER OFF IN THE HANDS OF A SUPERIOR BEING SUCH AS MYSELF.”

“Yeah right!” Willow scoffed. She tilted her head to the sky and put a hand over her mouth. “Nice try, asshole! One puny robot isn’t gonna bring us down that easy!”

“Wait, Willow,” Mr. Higgsbury suddenly broke his silence, having been staring at the newcomer with the same look that he would get when handling a new (and potentially explosive, but Wendy knew better than to comment) device. “I don’t think it’s from Maxwell.”

“What does tiny science man mean?” Wolfgang said, puzzled. Willow frowned. 

“How could it not be? We’ve seen those chess monsters before.”

“But it doesn’t look anything like those automatons,” Mr. Higgsbury said. “And the chess pieces don’t talk, or go this far from where they’re stationed. Don’t you think that’s peculiar?”

“YOU PRIMITIVE CREATURES FOCUS ON THE STUPIDEST THINGS,” the robot said. “THIS CONVERSATION IS NOT BENEFICIAL TO ME. SUBMISSION IS YOUR BEST OPTION FOR SURVI-”

“Ugh, the other ones aren’t this rude either,” Willow muttered. “Wilson, I know what you’re thinking, and no, you can’t take it to study. Better off destroying it now, Maxwell or not.” She stepped towards the robot with her spear stretched out. Wendy leaned forwards, eyes wide. She didn’t feel the slight shift of the stacked logs under her, too absorbed the altercation unfolding below. 

“Willow wai-”

Suddenly, Wendy felt the log under her feet roll backwards. She gasped as her body pitched forward with a lurch of her stomach. 

_Wendy!_

Wendy fell through the air to the sound of gasping around her and landed with a very uncomfortable tumble in the grass, her shoulder throbbing from the impact. 

“Ow…”

“WENDY?!”

“NO!”

Wendy blinked up at the robot, who was staring at her from only a few feet away. The three adults were frozen in shock, horrified expressions on all their faces. 

“Uh…” She stared back at the robot’s blank eyes, shiny and dark. It didn’t have any lids to blink, any brows to furrow. It just stared at her. 

“D-don’t get any closer to her!” Mr. Higgsbury stammered. Mr. Wolfgang shakily nodded, and Willow’s eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Watch it, tin can...” she growled in a tone that Wendy hadn’t ever heard her use, not even with Mr. Higgsbury. 

“YOU...HAVE AN OFFSPRING.” The robot said without a trace of emotion in its sharp, creaky voice. “HOW DISGUSTING.”

Wendy wasn’t sure if she should feel insulted at that, but before she had the chance to respond, Abigail was there, standing between them with her red glow illuminating the robot’s face. 

_GET. BACK._

“AND AN UNDEAD OFFSPRING. HOW NOVEL.” The robot glanced at the adults, then at Abigail and Wendy. Then back. “THIS IS POINTLESS.” 

And with that, it promptly turned around and started to walk in the opposite direction. 

“HEY!” Willow yelled. “You aren’t getting away that easy!” 

She started to run towards it, but Mr. Higgsbury caught her arm. 

“I don’t think we should engage it right now.” 

“What the hell are you talking about, Wilson!” Willow tugged her arm back sharply. “And let it kill us in our sleep?”

“It was a little aggressive yes, but it didn’t actually try to hurt us,” Wilson pointed out. “Perhaps it could be...negotiated with.”

“Oh right, let’s just NEGOTIATE with the killer robot,” Willow snapped. “What’s next, asking the spiders to pretty please not tear my arms off?” 

“Please do not fight!” Mr. Wolfgang put an arm between the two, his brow furrowed in worry. “Wolfgang would rather not fight tiny robot tonight, but Wolfgang thinks torchlady is right too, should not let guard down. Still, right now we need to get little lady back inside.” 

Being reminded of Wendy’s presence seemed to take the fight out of both the younger adults, with Willow visibly deflating and Mr. Higgsbury flushing with embarrassment as he turned to the girls, who were staring at the scene in bewilderment. Abigail tilted her head to the side curiously. 

“O-oh. Oh dear! I’m so sorry!” Mr. Higgsbury wrung his hands together as Willow silently went to examine Wendy’s shoulder. “I do apologize girls, that was most ungentlemanly-”

“It’s okay,” Wendy said, still somewhat dazed from the fall. She waved off Willow’s attempts to lift her up. “I can walk.” 

“You fell from maybe ten feet up,” Willow said. “Are you sure you didn’t break something?”

“Actually, no,” Wendy said. “Just lucky this time I guess.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned, the excitement of the night having given way to fatigue. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Well, alright. But that was pretty reckless, kid, I told you to stay in the tent. We’ll have to check your shoulder in the morning.” Wendy nodded, murmuring an apology, and allowed herself to be walked back through the gates in a fuzzy haze. She vaguely registered from the hushed conversation around her that Mr. Higgsbury agreed to take Mr. Wolfgang’s watch for the rest of the night, but once she was back in Willow’s tent she flopped over onto her bedspread, eyelids heavy. 

As she began to drift off Wendy heard Abigail whisper something to herself. 

_Weird, that thing felt like it had a soul._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sort of! College is really draining my mental energy, but this chapter was in the works for a while and I figured I should finish it up :P Hope you all enjoy, and apologies for the long wait!
> 
> As far as I know human beings have the durability of iphones so it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility for Wendy to be mostly unscathed by a ten foot drop. 
> 
> The characters aren't using WX's correct pronouns because well, they currently see them as a thing rather than a person. Proper introductions will be in order. 
> 
> Wendy's still saying morbid things, optimism is still hard for her right now. She's a little more comfortable having let out a few things last chapter though.


End file.
